“It’s exquisite, is it not? Do you not see the shading there at the base? Just magnificent. I do wish we could get closer to it.”
He could not help but smile at the pure expression of wonder. Most people saw such items as nothing more than money, and he supposed he’d become jaded. “I saw you discussing it with Fielding when we entered. What did our friend think of it?”
She adjusted the paisley shawl around her shoulders and crossed her arms at her waist. “I do not think Mr.Fielding shares our opinion.”
“No?”
“Decidedly not, but while on the subject of other guests, I do have a question, if I may. Is Mr.Tate related to Vincent Tate?”
“Yes. William is Vincent Tate’s oldest son and heir. He has two other children—both daughters.”
“I thought so. And his father brokered many art deals through your father, correct?”
“You surprise me, MissBrannon.” He chuckled. “I must say, I’m enjoying having someone to talk with who truly understands antiquities.”
“I grew up with it, Mr. Avery. As you did,” she stated frankly. “Did either of us really have a choice? But I am grateful to my father. He taught me everything. For instance, I can tell you with almost certainty that the harp is a counterfeit.”
He could not resist the leading statement. He glanced back to the instrument in question. “What?”
“See? The harp. I may not know how to play it, but I do know that it appears, on the surface, to be a Ventcelli harp. But look at the ornament on the crown and the adornments on the pillar. Notice the angle? And the gilding is not correct at all.”
Her point came into focus. No, he’d not noticed, but she was absolutely correct. Mr.Milton had probably thought it priceless, and to the untrained eye it would appear so. No doubt every lady present believed it to be a genuine version, but once the offending aspects had been seen, they could not be unseen.
“I don’t suppose you and your father brokered this deal?” he joked to mask his surprise.
“I was about to ask you the very same question,” she retorted with a wit sharp enough to rival any in the room. “But to answer you, no. We did not. We would have advised against such a purchase, but someone obviously convinced him of the authenticity.”
Lucas straightened as Mrs.Milton reentered the gallery and her fierce gaze fell on him. “Your friend has returned.”
She looked up, and he might have been mistaken, but he thought he saw a flash of something. Was it sadness? Disappointment?
“Have you received enough information on me and my intentions to satisfy her?” He attempted to revive the repartee he’d so enjoyed.
But his inquiry fell flat.
“I fear that when it comes to Mr.Milton’s collection, she’ll not be satisfied until she hears not a piece is to be parted with, but like you said, there is not a thing that you or I can do to change that.”
With her statement, he knew their incredibly enjoyable but grievously short conversation had come to an end, so he bowed. “I’ll bid you good evening, then, MissBrannon. Please keep track of the treasures you come across, and perhaps we can compare notes tomorrow.”
He bowed toward Mrs.Milton as she approached MissBrannon, then left her to return to Tate, who was speaking with MissStanley. Part of him felt as if he should have stayed and assisted her. It didn’t seem fair that she might have to bear the brunt of the widow’s frustration alone, but he suspected she was quite capable of holding her own.
Chapter22
Olivia could feel Mrs.Milton’s annoyance as surely as she could feel the breeze wafting in through the open garden doors. In fact, she’d sensed the taxing scrutiny all evening.
Mrs.Milton had been watching her. Watching Mr.Avery. And now, as she approached, every muscle in Olivia’s back and neck tensed.
“I’m about to announce that it’s time for the ladies to retire for the evening,” Mrs.Milton said. “I saw you speaking with Mr.Avery. I trust you had a productive discussion.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs.Milton fussed with her glove. “And?”
Olivia had known this question was coming, and still she was not comfortable with it. To complicate matters, she felt a strange, unanticipated kinship with Mr.Avery that she couldn’t explain.
“It was as I thought it would be,” Olivia began. “He does intend to broker some items, but he would not share details.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that.” A flush reddened Mrs.Milton’s otherwise pale skin.
